“Most charming and beautiful lady, I salute you. To your party I come, and there with you at Dana Dene will I ever after remain. As your friend and protector I will stand ever by your side. Unless, however, you should attack me with a carving knife (as is sometimes your playful habit), in which case, I will run away and never return. Expect me on Thursday, by express. Your true friend,
“Saskatchewan.”
“Oh,” cried Dick, “it’s an Indian doll! Saskatchewan is an Indian name, you know. Won’t it be fun?”
“Yes,” cried his twin. “And do you suppose Aunt Nine dressed it herself, in wigwam and feathers?”
“Ho, ho! Dolly. You mean wampum, not wigwam!”
“Well, it’s all the same; I don’t care. Oh, I wish Saskatchewan would come. I’m crazy to see him!”
“So’m I. Do you s’pose the box’ll come addressed to Lady Eliza Dusenbury, Dana Dene?”
“No, I guess it’ll be addressed to Aunt Rachel, or maybe to us. What does Dene mean, auntie?”
“Dene?”
“Yes, Dana Dene, you know?”